The Rain
by Crofregernish
Summary: A two-shot! Amaya: a girl whose life was far from perfect and who fell in love with the boy she could never have. When she's finally had enough, who will be there to save her? ShikamaruxOC; ShikaxOC; ShikamaruxReader.
1. Part I

Hey there, my wonderful readers! This story is indeed a request (for akatsukixsinger285), so I'll give you some short info on the OC after the disclaimer.

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own Naruto, nor anything affiliated with the manga/anime, nor do I gain profit by producing this written delicacy of utter delight. The poem I use in this is written by Willa Cather and is entitled _The Tavern_.

Let's see… Your name is Amaya; you are _muy inteligente_ with an IQ of over 200, a chῡnin, and you have a unique kekkei genkai that allows you to bend and manipulate the earth.

A teenage girl stared off into the sky, daydreaming of a different world: a world with happiness, with peace and understanding. She was happy, though she knew it wasn't real. She savored the moments each day she spent in her imaginary universe. When she came back to reality, it always hit her with full force, but she endured. There was no other way to be with him.

She was lying in a field filled with golden daffodils waving in the wind, waiting. She was waiting for him to return – her love – though, it was only one way; she feared he wouldn't return.

_IN the tavern of my heart_

_Many a one has sat before,_

_Drunk red wine and sung a stave,_

_And, departing, come no more._

He left on a team mission five days ago, and was expected back the day before. There was emptiness, coldness, she felt as a breeze blew through the meadow that resonating from deep within her. There was something missing without him. The two did not talk much, she merely sat with him as he watched the clouds; sometimes she watched them too, others she watched him. Today, she sat with her legs against her chest staring longingly at the place he normally laid.

"You're here." The voice was familiar: monotonous. She knew not whether it was a statement or a question.

"Yeah…" was the girl's soft reply. He was finally home, back with her. Yet, the warmth she usually felt did not return; there was something different.

"Are you all right, Amaya?" he asked.

She wasn't.

"I'm fine." She flashed him a fake smile, a well-practiced act that tore at her heart. She hated to pretend, but reality was much too difficult to bear. Shikamaru's eyes met hers, but she couldn't tell whether he believed her or not. "Really," she pressed.

He sighed and sat beside her.

_When the night was cold without, _

_And the ravens croaked of storm, _

_They have sat them at my hearth, _

_Telling me my house was warm._

_I missed you_.

She couldn't say it.

She couldn't admit to herself that she loved him. Temari was her best friend – how could she admit it? It had taken so long to get a friend, someone who listens. But, even so, Amaya couldn't tell her. Tell her what her mind was aching for her to scream. Instead, she said,

"Temari's come to visit."

She could have sworn she saw him glance at her. "Tsunade is letting her stay at one of the temporary apartments." Amaya handed the boy a piece of paper with an address scrawled upon it. She wished she didn't have to give it to him; it was like giving away a piece of her heart. A piece ripped from her chest by the pen she wrote it with.

Shikarmaru's eyes showed something the girl could not quite understand. Surprise? Questioning? It didn't matter. "I'll go see her then." He started to walk away.

"Shikamaru."

He turned around. "Yeah?"

_Please don't leave me._ "You should hurry; it looks like rain is coming."

_As the lute and cup went round,_

_They have rhymed me well in lay;_

_When the hunt was on at morn,_

_Each, departing, went his way._

The sky was growing black, and winds were starting to pick up in the distance. Wintriness was slowly creeping toward the village from the surrounding mountains. Amaya shivered, the coldness surrounding her heart was now consuming her from the outside as well.

"You should go too."

She nodded. "I will, in a minute."

Shikamaru looked at the girl a moment, staring off into nowhere and longing on her face, before leaving himself. She watched him go, the feeling of wanting to be near him growing stronger with every step he took. She stood, knowing that even if her best friend loved him, at least he would be around more often.

Rain began to drizzle from the sky as Amaya made her way to the restaurant. Temari had left a note on her table, instructing where she and Shikamaru had gone for dinner. Not sure if she would interrupt anything, Amaya approached the restaurant cautiously, trying not to be seen. It was nearing dark – the storm clouds only making it darker – and the winds were stronger now, bring droplets of water with each gust.

The restaurant had a lone window, surrounded by worn bricks, and aged wooden door. Temari and Shikamaru were sitting beside the window, talking. Amaya stopped to watch them. Temari was gesturing with her hands, seeming to tell a story, as Shikamaru listened politely. Then he smiled.

A real smile.

Something Amaya could never do.

_On the walls, in compliment,_

_Some would scrawl a verse or two,_

_Some have hung a willow branch,_

_Or a wreath of corn-flowers blue._

She felt the pain rip at her, break her into pieces. She was angry. Angry at herself for letting down her guard, opening up – even if just a minute amount – and most of all: falling in love. She broke a promise to herself, the promise not to feel. She did not cry nor love, until Shikamaru came into her life. He didn't try to make her talk, like everyone else after she came to Konoha. A girl of eight, no parents or brothers or sisters. No family.

She told the villagers she fell on her journey, that's where the bruises came from. That it was hard to get to Konoha. That she had nightmares and clenched onto herself in her sleep, that's why they looked like handprints.

No one knew the truth.

She was crying now, the rain was falling with her tears, mixing as they flowed together into the mud. The dark. The dark was closing in on her; she could feel the familiar pressure of fear in her chest. Today, she pushed it down, deep down and turned it into more anger.

She made her way to a forgotten flower field slowly being overgrown by forest life. In the middle stood a lone tree meant to offer shade for the florists. It reached into the sky, its branches beckoning Amaya into their grasp.

She looked at the tree bark, fingertips slowly making their way across her mother's name.

_Ah! my friend, when thou dost go,_

_Leave no wreath of flowers for me;_

_Not pale daffodils nor rue,_

_ Violets nor rosemary. _

Her thoughts returned to Shikamaru.

Using all the chakra she could, Amaya bent the earth before her until it was a semblance of two people, side-by-side. The rain was starting to cool her skin – turn it to ice – but she need not care. She had no will, for the world was too painful for her to bear.

Having exhausted most of her energy and chakra, she fell to her knees before the statues: Temari and Shikamaru. Two lovers now immortalized by her own hands.

Her hands.

Amaya clawed at them, scraped her nails down their rough surfaces. If she was going to feel pain, she wanted to cause it. She wanted control. Her frozen flesh began to meld with the hot blood that ran down from her fingertips.

Someone stopped her hands. "Amaya, stop."

Amaya looked at the tree.

The tree being swallowed by the dark.

And herself being swallowed by the ice.

"Mom?"

She too, was consumed by darkness.

_Spill the wine upon the lamps,_

_Tread the fire, and bar the door;_

_So despoil the wretched place,_

_None will come forevermore._


	2. Part II

Amaya woke to unfamiliar surroundings. Sitting up, she could see she was in a room of mostly white, a few art pieces scattered throughout, and a glass table in front of her. She was covered by a quilt and laying on a black leather couch. Rain continued to beat against the window's glass; the sky showing no sign of light.

"You're awake." He handed Amaya a steaming mug. She looked at it questioningly. "It's just tea. Sugar, no milk."

_You know how I like my tea? _"How did I get here?"

Shikamaru had seen Amaya outside of the small restaurant, and had seen her run away into the storm. Temari sent him to go, saying Amaya needed him more than her. He followed her, staying out of sight just to make sure Amaya was all right. But when Amaya went to her mother's makeshift memorial, Shikamaru was at a loss of what to do. Though many had said he was a genius, he didn't know how to fix her pain. There were so many options and outcomes, he couldn't decide on the best option.

By the time he could finally realize she just needed someone there, she was in the storm too long. Hypothermia was beginning to set it, and he was too late to get to her before it overcame her. Amaya's body was too exhausted to stay conscious.

"But," he continued, "I should be asking what you were doing out there in the first place. It was deserted, and to go there during a storm… What were you thinking, Amaya?" Anger was apparent on his face. His eyes were darker, jaw clenched.

"I wasn't," she replied quietly. She stood from the couch; he didn't move from his place on the coffee table. "Thank you, Shikamaru, really. But I should be going." She turned toward the door, but a hand caught her arm before she could take a step.

"Amaya." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Why won't you talk to me?"

The same anger she had last night flared up. Amaya spun around in his grasp, her face only inches from his. "You want to know why? Because I love you. Because I could never do anything about it because you have Temari and she's my best friend. I couldn't even tell her. Because I love you and I'm _afraid_. I'm afraid to love, because every time I do I get hurt. And I'm afraid that if I did tell you, I would only lose you. But none of it matters because you never even notice me. Temari's the only reason you followed me last night. I bet you don't even care." She whispered the last sentence, tears now pooling in her eyes.

"Amaya—"

"Forget it," she interrupted. Amaya twisted out of his grasp and fled out his door.

She ran.

She ran to her sanctuary.

The only place Amaya felt someone truly cared.

The figures were still there, having not been worn away by the pouring rain. Her vision blurred by her tears, Amaya produced a makeshift blade out of the earth.

She stabbed the dirt Shikamaru's chest, gripping the blade so hard she began drawing blood from her own hand.

Then she couldn't move.

Her whole body felt like stone.

It was frozen in place.

"You really should have picked a different place to go if you were trying to avoid me," Shikamaru said. He was making her cast a shadow in the light of a glow-stick. She unwillingly dropped her blade into his hand. "Do you really hate me that much?" He asked, seeing the damage to his earth self.

Amaya didn't say anything, but looked down and let the tears fall freely.

"Please don't cry." He stopped his shadow possession jutsu and chose to instead wrap her in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said, and kept saying it. She apologized over and over, for what she did and said.

He took her face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "It's okay."

All she could was cry into his shoulder. Small sobs and numbing shivers shook her shoulders. He held her close to him, and stayed silent as she let out everything she'd buried deep within her years ago. When she had finished Shikamaru brought her underneath the tree, where the rain was far less. He took a blanket out of his coat and wrapped it around the tired girl. Her body drained from the chakra and energy she'd exerted the past twenty-four hours.

"It's okay to sleep," he told her. She was too tired to object.

When she had fallen to sleep, Shikamaru picked her up to bring her back to his apartment. He hoped – this time – she would finally talk to him.

Arriving at his home, the boy laid Amaya on his bed and removed the wet blanket. Not wanting to take her wet clothes, Shikamaru instead opted to take as many blankets as he had and cover her. He then changed his own soaked clothes and pulled up a chair beside the bed to watch her sleep. He knew he could never sleep for worry about her.

Amaya didn't have a chance to so much as sit up before Shikamaru was forcing her into his bathroom to change into an oversized t-shirt so he could dry her now damp clothing. And when she had changed her outfit, she found Shikamaru busy mixing herbs in his kitchen.

"Um… I have, I have these," she said shyly, gesturing to her wet clothes.

"The drier is through that door." He pointed it out, not turning around.

Returning from the laundry room, Amaya sat down on his couch uncertainly. She watched Shikamaru as he measured and pounded various plants – he brewed them into a tea. He brought two cups into the living room and sat beside her on the couch. Though Amaya sipped her cup and kept her gaze averted, the boy watched her intently.

"Is… Something wrong?" she asked unsure.

"_Is_ there?" Seriousness was plastered across his features.

"No," Amaya sighed. "Not really."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Amaya decided to speak; she knew Shikamaru was waiting for her to continue. "I am sorry about, you know, everything… I wasn't thinking straight."

"I'm not concerned about that." She turned to ask him what he meant, but he stopped her. "You. I'm worried about _you_."

"Well, there's noth—"

"I know about everything, Amaya. Temari stopped by last night." He held up a hand to stop her when she tried to speak. "Temari, she told me about your mom dying, and what your dad did to you. I know about all of it, Amaya. She knows I care about you, why can't you see that, too?"

Amaya had nothing to say; she was shocked.

Then he kissed her.

She kissed back.

And she thought maybe, maybe things _could_ be okay.


End file.
